


Pervert

by anemic_cinema



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Misogyny, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Violent Thoughts, reference to attempted sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane sees something he shouldn't have seen. Content Warning: Non-consensual voyeurism, homophobia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sick

Shane knew it was wrong. However, if anyone had questioned it, he would have been quick to say that he couldn't have helped it. That it was their fault anyways, that they were the real perverts, doing what they did where anyone could see it.

He'd just been casually strolling by the stables, minding his own goddamn business when he heard the noises. Soft noises, muffled laughter, what sounded like someone being pushed against a wall. Shane would say it was only natural of him to peek through the crack in the stables' wall. That he was shocked to see Daryl all over Glenn. The two of them kissing, their grimy hands pawing at each other. 

Shane remembered that they'd volunteered to help clean the stables, and they were both filthy looking from their efforts. It was a sweltering day, and even in the shadowy interior of the stables it must have been hot. Despite that, Daryl was covering Glenn with his body, grinding up against him.

He would have never thought that the two of them were, you know, those kind of men. The kind of men he'd always looked down on. The kind he'd made fun of when he was in high school. The kind that were the butt of the jokes he'd tell at the bar after going off duty with Rick, even though the cruelty of the jokes made Rick uncomfortable. When he'd tell him to quit it, Shane would clap his back and tell him to lighten up. He was just kidding around, what's the big deal anyway? If those kind of men didn't want to be joked about, well they shouldn't flaunt their goddamn sexuality all over the place. Rick was always too much of a fucking boy scout for his own good. 

All that disgust and yet, there he was. Staring at Daryl, tough redneck asshole Daryl, kissing Glenn with so much passion it made Shane's guts twist and churn. And Glenn, who looked like a goddamn teenager even though he was in his late twenties, gripping onto Daryl, smiling, laughing. What made it worse was when Daryl would pull away, he'd smile and laugh too, like it was some fucking game. Like the world wasn't fucked, and like they weren't constantly on the brink of death, or worse. 

It made Shane sick. 

He could hear them clearer now that he was pressed up against the side of the stables. 

“Daryl, we're supposed to be cleaning, we promised Herschel.” From the angle he was watching from, he could see Glenn bring his hand up and stroke he other man's face, smearing the dust, sweat, and grime that was all over it.

“I know, but we need a break, don't we?” 

“Oh so this is your idea of a break?” He was cut off by Daryl leaning in again and kissing him. 

“What, you never wanted to make it in the stables?”

“You are such a weirdo.” Glenn laughed again.

The talking stopped completely, and all Shane could hear were the muffled gasps and groans from both men. Most people when faced with this kind of situation would have walked away, embarrassed to have been privy to such a intimate moment. But Shane stayed, glued to the hole in the wall, watching the two men kiss and touch. He could not force himself to stop, the scene was revolting and fascinating to him.

He couldn't figure out why the fuck the two of them would do this with each other. Granted, it was slim pickings when it came to women right now, but he could not wrap his mind around it. Daryl could probably have any woman on the farm with a snap of his fingers. Hell, they all looked at him like he was some kind of god, what with his hunting skills and his troubled blue eyes. That Maggie girl had been nosing around Glenn, so it wasn't like he was hurting for choices either. Then why the fuck would they go for each other? 

Shane's stomach dropped when he saw Daryl slide down onto his knees, his hands trailing down Glenn's chest, slipping under his shirt so he could stroke the other man's skin. 

“Take off that baseball cap.” He heard the redneck say.

“Why should I?” Glenn responded. Shane couldn't hear how Daryl answered that, but Glenn threw his head back, laughter pealing out from his throat. He threw the cap onto a bale of hay, and ran his fingers through the kneeling man's hair. It was hard to see with Daryl's head in the way, but by the way the older man's hands were positioned, he was definitely unbuttoning Glenn's pants.

Shane would have never imagined it would be Daryl who would be on his knees, looking up at the younger man. Daryl did not look like the kind of guy to be generous in that way. When Daryl's head started bobbing in the tell-tale motions of a blowjob, the former cop felt his own cock become unbearably hard. Cursing under his breath, he pressed his hand against it, trying to convince the erection to go away. It didn't work too well, because the more Shane watched, the harder he got.

When Daryl tilted his head to the side, licking up and down the side of the younger man's cock and lovingly pressing kisses against it, Shane had to bite down on his own arm to stifle a groan. It was hard to made out details in the shadows of the stables, but the kid was surprisingly well endowed. Although it was only surprising to Shane because he believed in the hoary old stereotype of all Asian men having small ones. Daryl looked so goddamn happy to have his cock his mouth, it made Shane wonder what else Daryl let Glenn do to him. The possibilities that question brought up in his mind made his cock throb in a humiliating way. 

He forced himself to look away from Daryl, and looked at Glenn. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, an expression of blissful pleasure painted on his face. If he'd had to have guessed, he would have said that Glenn would've been the one on his knees. He had the kind of mouth that looked like it was made to suck cock. Those lips of his were what his former high school football teammates would've called DSLs (Dick Sucking Lips). Shane would never admit it out loud, or even think about it too much, but he'd definitely jerked off to the thought of Glenn on his knees in front of him, those full lips parted and needy for his cock. That was his dirty little secret though, just like how when he used to fuck Lori he'd sometimes imagine it was Rick underneath him instead of her. 

Glenn's face contorted with pleasure, the noises he was making became more high pitched and slightly louder, like he couldn't control himself because Daryl was that good at giving head. Shane could barely hear the words he was mouthing out, but it sounded like they were full of tenderness. The noise Glenn made when he came was beautiful, all vulnerability and joy.

When Daryl stood back up and kissed Glenn, Shane had to restrain himself from punching the side of the stables. Why the hell should they be happy in all this misery? What had they done to deserve even a second of bliss? Daryl zipped up Glenn's pants, and placed the baseball cap back on top of his mussed up black hair. The younger man wrapped his skinny arms around the other man's neck and pulled him close. 

They just stood there holding onto each other, despite the heat and the filth. Shane slumped down, shaking with anger and frustration. His chest felt tight and he could not for the life of him breathe properly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and off his nose. What he'd seen was too much for him to handle. He staggered to his feet, hoping against hope that he would not run into anyone, that he could find some private corner where he could take care of his goddamn hard on and try to forget what he'd just seen. That wasn't the worst of it, because he knew why Daryl and Glenn would choose each other, out of anybody else. They were in love. It made Shane sick because deep down he knew he would never taste that kind of love.


	2. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial is Shane's best talent.

Going out into the woods by the farm, Shane found a spot that was isolated and private looking enough so he could get some relief. He sat down with his back to some old tree that was big enough to hide him from anyone who might come wandering out that way. Undoing his pants, he kept looking around for any signs of unwelcome company. Once he felt sure enough nobody, human or walker, was around, he spread his legs, pulled his cock out and began to stroke it. 

It was a testament to his abilities of denial to not admit to himself that he thought of men just as much as he thought of women when he'd jerk off. He'd built a macho, lady-killer facade of himself, and everyone had bought it. Even Rick did. Rick, whom he'd known for as long as he could remember, who knew almost all of his secrets, who he considered to be a brother, despite the fact that he was so often featured in his jerk-off fantasies. 

Not today though. In his mind, he came up with something particularly inspiring. He imagined not just watching Glenn and Daryl, but interrupting their little interlude. Making the both of them go down on their knees. They'd be willing, of course, because the two of them were dirty fucking sluts. The fact that Daryl had been so quick to go down on Glenn in the stables of all places proved that, right? The thought of the both of them using their tongues on his cock made him shiver. Shane's tongue darted out to wet the fingers of his free hand, which he then slid up his shirt. 

As he stroked his cock, he squeezed and pulled at his nipples, making them stiff and aching from excessive stimulation. In his fantasy, he imagined holding Glenn and Daryl heads still, his fingers pulling at their hair, thrusting his cock with their lips on either side of it. Spit dripping out of their open mouths, making his cock so fucking wet. He stopped for a second so he could coat his hand with saliva, so that the fantasy felt a little more real. Shane grinned slightly at the thought of those two moaning like the little cocksluts that he knew that they were, moaning for him. Not looking at each other, but looking up at him because he was the one they both wanted, the one they'd beg for.

Shane's hand moved faster. The fantasy was satisfying his needs, but there was something missing. It wasn't enough. So he changed it a little. Made it so it wasn't only Daryl and Glenn working his cock, but Rick was there too. Not on his knees though. Instead, standing behind him, pressing up against him, his arms wrapped around his torso, stroking and petting him from neck to navel. Concentrating, Shane could almost feel the hot gust of Rick's breath on his neck, his stubble scratching at his skin, then replaced with the wet warmth of his tongue. The Rick in his fantasy grabbed hold of his head, forcing it down to the side so that Shane's neck was exposed. Latching onto it, he bit and sucked at it, bruising the skin. Marking him because Shane belonged to him. He always had.

That was it. That was the perfect scene. His cock started to leak as he felt his muscles begin to tense, his hand moving hard and fast. This wasn't the time to take it slow. He needed the relief, now. Shane couldn't prevent himself from moaning out Rick's name as the orgasm overtook him, the name devolving into muttered curses and wordless grunts. His hips undulated with each jolt, cum spurting out onto the dry leaves on the ground. In the fantasy still running in his head, he pictured Daryl and Glenn, open mouthed and desperate, cum streaking their dirty faces; Rick still holding him as he squeezed every drop out of his cock and into their greedy, slutty mouths. His head fell back against the trunk of the tree, the bark scratching at his recently shorn scalp. 

Wiping his hand against a patch of moss and tidying himself up, he felt something close to guilt creep into his mind. Objectively, he knew it was fucked up to fantasize about his married best friend, and even more fucked up to fantasize about two people he'd just spied on in an extremely intimate moment. But it didn't matter to him anymore. The world was different now, old standards of decency meant nothing. 

While he could assuage the guilt, he could not shake the feeling of desperation that remained. He was alone, jerking off in the woods thinking about people he would never have, and would never want him. The memory of how Daryl and Glenn held each other was haunting, because it was clear that they were worth so much to each other. They had each other for comfort. Shane had no one. 

The one person he wanted above anyone else would never, ever be his. Hell, he couldn't even admit to himself that he wanted Rick that badly. Not just him, but his tenderness and his love. He wanted Rick to look at him the way he looked at Lori. He wanted Rick to look at him like he was worth everything in the world, like he'd fight and die for him. It hurt too much for Shane to be honest and admit that he was in love with Rick. Admitting that would break the facade he'd worked so hard to built up. It was like a suit of armor around a very small and very scared man who could not say that he was scared and lonely.

Shane stayed under the tree until until the feeling passed. It was just a stupid fantasy after all, just something to help him cum. No different from the porno he used to jerk off to before the world went to shit. It didn't mean a goddamn thing. Nothing at all.


	3. Disgust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as he's disgusted by Daryl and Glenn, Shane is even more disgusted by himself.

It was hard for Shane not to stare, not to try and decode everything they did. After seeing them in the stables, it was like every little gesture they made became a declaration of what they were. The way Daryl smiled at Glenn when the younger man came to the fire to eat. The way they sat just a little too close to each other. The way Glenn let his fingers linger when Daryl handed him a bowl of food. 

Shane stared knowing he was being obvious, but he couldn't stop. His mind kept trying to process it. These two men, together, happy. A normal person would be happy for them. But normal was something that left a long time ago.  
He knew he was obvious because Daryl noticed. The redneck glared at him, his narrow eyes challenging Shane to look away. Giving him a chance to back down. Shane didn't.

“The fuck's yer problem Walsh?” Daryl's voice was hard. Glenn hadn't noticed Shane's stares, so he looked surprised at his outburst.

The others looked at them. Rick started to stand. He was looking at Shane, giving him a look that said to back down. Shane hated it. So he scoffed, put down his empty bowl, and left without a word. Conversations started again behind him as he walked away. Conflict avoided. 

He laid down on the cot in his tent. If Rick hadn't been there, he could've done something. Something to show that fucking redneck who was the boss. If Rick wasn't around, his life would be so much simpler. He'd be able to be with Lori, and pretend that Rick wasn't at the forefront of his mind all the time. 

Anger was buzzing in his head. He wished he could've knocked Daryl down for daring to talk to him like that. That's a thought, beating the shit out of him, showing him who the real man was. Glenn sure as hell couldn't stop him. Shane pictured himself standing over the two of them. Daryl and Glenn looking up at him with fear and awe. Willing to show their bellies just so Shane wouldn't hurt them. Willing to do anything to apologize for challenging him. 

Shane stopped himself. It was one thing to think about them willing to do anything with him because they were sexual deviants, it was another to think of them doing it because they were scared of him. Disgusted with himself, he stripped down to his boxers and tried to fall asleep. But the arousal didn't fade. Shane kept turning over from side to side, trying to ignore it. He couldn't allow himself to give into that fantasy. It had been ok to try and force himself onto Lori back in the CDC. He'd been drunk. People do fucked up things when they're drunk. He couldn't be held accountable for that. 

Turning onto his back, he took his cock in hand, and thought of other things, acceptable things. Things like Andrea. Like Lori. Like Maggie. That was alright, that was acceptable. 

Except he couldn't stop thinking of Rick staring at him. Staring at him like he was the one in the wrong. Like he was the one who needed to be admonished. And maybe he was. Maybe Shane wanted Rick to admonish him, to make him stop. 

He wondered how the other man would do it. Pull him aside probably, try and talk to him. Rick was always one to try and resolve things that way. But words wouldn't work. So Rick would have to get physical with him. 

Shane grunted and moved his hand faster. 

Rick would have to knock him down, but he wouldn't go down easy. There would be a struggle. Rick would end up on top of him. He'd feel Shane get hard. Maybe he'd look at him with disgust, maybe not. Shane couldn't decide which would be better. He wouldn't beg for it though, that would be giving away too much. Rick would have to be the one to offer it. If he offered it, it would be impossible for Shane to say no.

His cock twitched, and he had to bring his other hand to grip its root. This was too good to have it end so soon. 

When the Rick in his mind made him open his mouth and take his cock, Shane's tongue darted out to wet his lips. Rick fucking his mouth, treating him like he was his personal fuckhole, that was a familiar fantasy. The other man probably would never do that in real life. Shane knew him too well. He was gentle, he never bragged about his sex life, he treated women with respect. More respect than Shane anyways. But that wasn't what Shane wanted right now. He wanted to be treated the way he deserved to be treated. 

Shane wanted Rick to grab him, make him bend over, and fuck him so rough that Shane would hurt for days after. So that he'd wince every time he would sit down. So that everyone could see that he'd been punished for what he'd done. Rick fucking him hard, his cock slamming in and out of his ass, his hands gripping onto his hips. Or maybe telling him to do the work, because damned if Rick would put that much effort into fucking someone so pathetic. 

Despite his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, Shane made a sound from deep inside his chest. That's how it should go. Rick sitting, Shane on his lap, fucking himself because he's not worth the effort of a proper fuck. He pictured Rick looking at him with contempt, telling him he can do better than that. That he'd better make him cum, or else. That he owed it to Rick, that he was his bitch. 

That's what pushed Shane into orgasm. As the spasms passed, his tongue ran up over his top lip. He could taste the sweat from the exertion. The anger and frustration bled out of him temporarily, he could now relax. In this state, his mind wandered into a much more gentle fantasy. Rick kissing him, telling him he'd learned his lesson like a good boy, stroking his face, running his thumbs over his lips. Looking at him with tenderness and love, because he'd only correct someone he cared about. 

It was nice for a few minutes, but it quickly turned into disgust. It was too bitter a feeling to maintain. Too sad. And Shane was left with nothing but a simmering anger and resentment towards Rick for being in his head and his heart. Towards Daryl and Glenn for being happy. Towards himself for being the man that he was, pathetic and disgusting.


	4. Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane isn't ashamed of the things he should feel shame for.
> 
> CW: Use of a homophobic slur.

Daryl had his tent away from everyone else by an old stone wall. Shane waited until he saw Glenn leaving his tent and walking over there. When he did, he slowly crept behind him, keeping enough of a distance to remain unseen. The memory of them in the stables had faded too much, and now he needed something to refresh it. He doubted he could get a clear line of sight, but listening to them would be enough. His imagination would take care of the rest. At this point, he didn't care that he was crossing a line he'd drawn for himself. A line to keep himself separated from what Glenn and Daryl were. Desperation was enough to make him forget his own armor and do something that put him at risk.

The stone wall provided the perfect cover. Even behind it he could hear their voices.

“Hey gorgeous.” That was Glenn greeting the redneck. Shane couldn't help rolling his eyes at the term of endearment.

Apparently Daryl thought the same, because Shane heard him scoff. “There you go talkin' crazy shit again.”

“Oh shut the hell up you dumbass.” Glenn's voice had a happy lilt in in, even as he was insulting the older man. “C'mere.”

There were muffled sounds and whispered words that Shane could not hear, followed by movement and the sound of tent flaps rustling. It went quiet for a while, much to the former deputy's frustration. He inched closer to the edge of the wall, peering around it. The tent material was opaque enough for him not to see any silhouettes, but now he could hear a little clearer. Glenn was vocal. He could hear his sighs and gasps even from there. 

Shane sat down, facing away from the tent. Closing his eyes, he could focus on the muffled sounds of sex and love coming from only a few feet away. Whispers were often interrupted by laughter and moans. They sounded so goddamn happy it made Shane's chest hurt. He squeezed and pawed at himself through his pants, not sure what else to do. In his mind though he didn't imagine Daryl and Glenn. His mind transposed the noises and put them in a situation with him and Rick. It wasn't the fantasy he wanted to be thinking about, but it was the one he needed. 

He knew he could make Rick make those sounds if he had half a chance.

Pushing the shame aside, Shane lost himself in the fantasy of Rick's body against his, of their hands drawing out those happy sounds from each other. It was one of his gentler fantasies, one full of sweet whispered words and caresses instead of the rough sex that Shane usually liked to think about. His tongue wet his lips before he pressed them together. His dick was hard now, and he moved his hand up and down it through his pants. No need to pull it out yet. Doing it like this felt plenty good. 

So good that Shane didn't notice the silence or the sound of feet approaching.

“You sick fuck!” The loud voice snapped him out of his fantasy and up onto his feet. Hands shoved him back down. He looked up, expecting to see Daryl standing above him ready to fight. Instead it was Glenn, without his cap and shirt. 

“Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass you fucking pervert.” Glenn kicked at his legs, connecting his foot with Shane's thigh. He was still in too much shock to fight back. He scooted away and scrabbled to his feet again. “Leave Daryl and me alone!”

“Or what? You'll kick my ass?” Shane rose up and stared down the younger man. He could easily take him down and make him regret even trying to step to him. “I'd like to see you try you faggot.”

Shane moved towards him, prepared to make sure that Glenn never spoke like that to him again with his fists and his words, but he heard a sound behind him. 

“Touch 'im and I swear I'll kill you where you stand Walsh.” 

The former deputy turned and saw Daryl aiming his crossbow at his head. “That's real smart, that would be easy for you to explain to Rick.”

The redneck didn't lower his weapon. “Don't care. Get the fuck out of here an' leave us be, or yer dead.” 

Shane scoffed and turned to look at the younger man. His face was grim with anger, his fists clenched and ready to fight. 

“That's a promise you son of a bitch. What the hell makes you think you have the right? Huh?” Glenn pointed at him. “You're a goddamn pervert who gets off on watching people without them knowing, and you have the audacity to call me a faggot? You know what, I might be, but at least I'm not like you.” He spit at Shane's feet. “Get the fuck out of here, now. And I swear to God if we ever catch you like this again you won't be getting off so easy.”

“You heard him Walsh. Get the fuck out of here.” Daryl snarled, keeping his crossbow aimed at Shane's head. “Don't think I won't shoot.”

Shane recognized his defeat, and tried to scoff defiantly before leaving. As soon as he had his back turned and way walking away, his tough expression fell, and an intense feeling of self-loathing took hold of him. Glenn was right. What Shane was was lower than anything they could be. In a horrible moment of clarity, he saw himself as terrible as he really was. Someone who was alright with violating the boundaries of others for his own benefit. There had been Lori at the CDC. The only reason he'd stopped then was the shock of her scratching his face. And before then...he could remember more than one girl that he'd pressured or whose “no”s he'd conveniently ignored. 

That shame and clarity didn't last long, and soon was overtaken by rage at the two men. He doubted he could get the both of them alone long enough to get rid of them, and even if he did, then what? Rick was growing to rely on Daryl more than him, and would know something was up. He was stuck with no way to get back at them. 

Inside his tent, he sat, feeling blank and unable to move. Even the voice inside his head that told him that despite all of that, at least he wasn't like them was useless. Because he knew it was a lie. He was the same as them, no matter how much he tried to deny it. 

No. Shane would never admit to it. He refused to. He'd get them back somehow. Them and Rick. They were the ones to blame. 

Tomorrow he was going to go out to try and get rid of that prisoner in the barn with Rick. He'd start there. If he wanted to let go of these fantasies, the only way to do it would be to get rid of the one who was the focus of them.


	5. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time brings regret, the second time brings relief.
> 
> CW: blood, violence.

The taste in his mouth was hot and metallic. Breathing was getting more and more difficult. Shane could feel his lungs struggling to fill up and could hear the wheezing they made from the stab wounds in his chest.

His vision was getting dim, but he could still see Rick standing over him. He tried to lift his arm to reach for him. Not to drag him down or hurt him, but to hold on to something good before he died. It was the end, and he'd given his friend no choice. 

The only thing Shane felt as everything faded to black was how much he regretted everything. He tried to push out the words he should have told Rick before everything got complicated and fucked up because of the world and his inability to be truthful, but the blood in his mouth made it so he couldn't speak. 

The words “I loved you” got lost in the blood in his throat, and then all there was left was fear, regret, and then nothing at all.

When he got back up, he didn't remember anything. Nothing except hunger. Hunger like nothing else, that could only be satisfied by meat. There was meat in front of him. He could smell it. Soft and good, exactly what his teeth and his belly wanted. The meat had its back turned to him. His mouth gnashed and he snarled from the pain of his body and the pain of his hunger. Everything hurt so bad, but if he could just have a bite, just one bite of meat, he knew he'd feel better. 

The meat turned to look at him. Somewhere in his brain, its face registered as familiar, but it didn't matter if it was or not. Consuming it would make the hurt stop. He knew it would. The only thing he knew was that he had to eat the meat to make the hurt stop and then he'd feel better. 

A light shone in his eyes, and he growled at how it made his milky vision more clouded. There was a loud sound, and he kept himself turned towards it. Where there was sound there was meat.

The second time Shane died, he didn't have the capacity to regret anything. All he was aware of was that the hurt had stopped, so did the hunger. The second time he died, he found relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, now this is really, really done.


End file.
